Stone Cold Angel (The Perfect Order Book 2)

by Amy Deason

  Leaping from his seat, he raced from the wheelhouse. He didn’t even feel the cool, varnished wood beneath his feet as he ran across the deck and down the steps to the stateroom. He shoved the door open and looked toward the bed. It was empty. But the bathroom wasn’t.

  Cadence stood frozen in the doorway, the haunting scream still coming from her lips. Crossing the room, he grabbed her and turned her toward him and put his hand over her mouth.

  “Stop, Cadence. It’s okay. You’re all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She came to life then, fighting him like a wildcat. Kicking and hitting, she struggled to get away from him but he wasn’t about to let her go. One of her fists made contact with his right eye, making it sting like a bitch. He didn’t want to hurt her but he couldn’t very well stand here and let her pummel the shit out of him either.

  Scooping her up, he carried her to the bed and dumped her on it. Immediately she scooted away from him until her back was against the wall. She drew her knees up and stared at him in fear like a caged animal.

  “I killed him, I killed him,” she cried, her blue eyes as wide as saucers.

  The pain in those eyes speared him, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe it away but he didn’t know how.

  “Yes, you did. But you had to. Don’t you see that?”

  “No, no, no. Oh God, please make it stop, make it go away.” She was crying again. Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks like miniature raindrops.

  “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head, wishing more than ever he could.

  “Please,” she begged, her lips trembling with emotion.

  “Cadence, I can’t make it stop.”

  “Please, don’t you see? I can’t get it out of my head. Oh God, please help me. Help me,” she wailed. Clenching her eyes, she brought her hands up to the side of her head as if she was trying to squeeze the intruding memories out of her mind.

  He stepped closer to the bed, staring down at her. She looked so small and desolate it nearly broke his heart and he wanted to nothing more than to erase whatever she was seeing behind her closed eyes. But how?

  Sex, I could use sex.

  What? No way. He couldn’t do that to her. It was wrong. Sex had always been a part of a job or a weapon. What was happening right now, in front of his eyes, had nothing to do with either

  What a hell of a time to develop a conscience . . .

  “Cadence, there’s only one way I can make you forget but I don’t think you want that,” he warned.

  Her only answer was a garbled cry and more tears.

  Lord, he couldn’t take this anymore.

  Maybe if I just hold her, it will be enough.

  He climbed onto the bed slowly, not wanting to startle her.

  She opened her eyes, the luminous blue piercing him, pinning him in place. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. Maybe he should just leave.

  But he couldn’t. She needed him. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

  She remained still, watching him with flooded eyes as he crept nearer. He reached out, touching her arm tentatively. At a snail’s pace, she leaned into his touch and he felt a sizzle between them. It would be so easy to take her right now. He could make her forget everything for a while . . .

  No, I won’t do it, not with her. But damn if I can’t quit touching her.

  Grabbing her, he pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders. The heat of her body bled through the thin night shirt she wore. The one he’d put on her only an hour ago.

  Unbidden, the image of her naked body snaked through his mind, bringing with it an urge so crippling, he had to bite back a groan.

  I am not going to fuck her. I’m not. I’m not.

  He would just hold her. Nothing else.

  The curve of her breasts pressed into his chest and his body stirred in response, revolting against his innocent intentions.

  Ahhh, she feels so good . . .

  He tried to pull back but her fingers dug into his skin, dragging him closer, preventing him from distancing himself. Her mouth was at his neck, her lips brushing his throat. His breath caught.

  Shit, I can’t.

  “Please, Nikolas, make it go away, make it go away.”

  Oh fuck it.

  Growling, he pulled her down fast until she was underneath him in a matter of seconds. He ripped the night shirt from her body, exposing her breasts and dropped his head, taking one pink nipple between his lips and sucking hard.

  She uttered a soft, shocked sound. A sound of need, of protest, of surrender. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. She wanted him to make her forget. Well, there was only one way he knew how.

  Feeling for her panties, he hooked his fingers along the edge and pulled them down, tossing them somewhere in the darkened room.

  He lifted his mouth and climbed to his knees, running his hands over her breasts and down her stomach and legs. Keeping his eyes on her, he watched as she twitched and squirmed under his touch. Her skin was like satin beneath his fingers.

  Gripping her knees, he abruptly pushed her them apart and leaned over, putting his mouth on her. Her breathless gasp was like music to his ears.

  Going down on women was one of his favorite things to do. He loved everything about it. The taste, the whimpers, the cries. With each lick, each tiny nibble, he could bring them closer to the edge, to complete and utter surrender.

  Pulling back, he pursed his lips and blew against her sex. The gentle touch of air made her whimper and she fisted her hands in his hair, yanking him back to her.

  His lips curled into a smile before he parted them, releasing his tongue on her again, swirling it over her delicate flesh. Baring his teeth, he bit her lightly and she arched with a mewling cry, forcing herself closer to his mouth. His hands ran up her thighs, opening her further as the first small climax hit her.

  But it wasn’t enough. He wanted her to completely lose herself, lose every dark thought of danger and death. He wanted to be the only thing in her mind.

  Raising his head, he slid his fingers inside of her, forcing another moan from her parted mouth.

  Good Lord, she was tight. And so fucking wet.

  His stomach clenched with a desire he hadn’t felt in ages. But he wasn’t going to stop and consider it now.

  Keeping his fingers in place, he moved them slowly, feeling her muscles tighten around them. Once more, he lowered his mouth, training his tongue on the hard, sensitive nub between her thighs. Beginning with feather-light licks, he increased the pressure and the speed until both his tongue and his fingers were seizuring against her delicate skin. Over and over, he tasted her excitement, each precious drop furthering his own.

  Her whimpers were becoming cries and he could feel her first orgasm approaching. One of many he intended to give her.

  Swiftly, he pushed her over the edge, feeling her body tighten as she cried out, coming explosively.

  With that cry, there was no turning back. It was too late. For both of them.

  He climbed off of the bed, pausing only to pull a condom from his pocket. Tearing the package open, he stripped his jeans and boxers from his body in one fluid motion. With the flimsy rubber in place, he flung his shirt to the floor. He reached down, dragging Cadence against him, and wrapped her bare legs around his waist so she was straddling him. Carrying her to the nearest wall, he pinned her in place and nipped at her neck. Small, gentle bites that he soothed with his tongue.

  Her breath was coming faster and he wanted to ram into her, hard and rough. But he held back, and bracing himself, he entered her slowly, a little at a time.

  Ahhh, she felt so damn good . . .

  She cried out as her fingernails buried themselves in his back and clasped her legs around him even tighter, hanging
on in a death grip. Gritting his teeth, he eased out completely before dipping himself into that white-hot heat again. He pressed his mouth against her neck and groaned. In and out. In and out. Going deeper each time, he created an easy rhythm allowing her to get used to him. The slow, devastating pace began to drive him crazy and unable to hold back any longer, he thrust deeply, sinking himself completely inside her.

  She cried out sharply and it sounded like pain. He froze immediately, ready to pull out but she gripped him tighter, dragging him closer.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

  Then there was no way he could have. All thought left him as his body took over. He slammed into her, harder and harder. Her breath was in his ear, harsh and furious, driving him to move faster.

  Suddenly, she tightened around him. Throwing her head back, she screamed as she shattered, riding the wave of an orgasm so intense he almost lost himself.

  Pulling out at the last possible moment, he was determined to make this last. She was his and he was going to make her forget about everything but him.

  Moving over to the bed, he laid her down and spread her legs wide. Dropping to his knees, he put his mouth on her again, tasting the slick heat of her skin on his tongue. She was still trembling but she automatically raised her hips to give him better access. And he took it. Flicking his tongue over her, he reached up, digging his fingers into her hips and pulled her closer.

  Cadence’s hands gripped his shoulders as he slipped his tongue deep within her, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could. Starting off slow, he teased and tormented, making her twist under his skillful mouth. Picking up speed, he lapped at her, bringing her to the edge again. The whimpers and cries were all around him and he couldn’t hold back anymore. Nipping her lightly, he removed his mouth and covered her body with his own.

  With one swift movement, he buried himself, giving himself over to the sensation racing through him. Pausing for a moment, he withdrew before ramming into her again and again, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. Panting, she bucked her hips upward wildly to meet his movements.

  “Oh God, please, please,” she begged in a breathless whisper.

  With a machine-like frenzy, he continued to move against her, his own rapid breath mixing with hers. If she didn’t come soon, he was going to lose it. He couldn’t stop it from happening. Not this time.

  “Come. On. Cadence. One. More. Time,” he demanded, accentuating each word with a hard thrust.

  She broke apart underneath him, screaming his name as the orgasm violently ripped through her, turning her body into a live wire in his arms. The sound of his name on her lips shot him over the edge and gripping her hips tight, he pushed all of the way in.

  Oh, this was it, this was it . . .

  He exploded inside of her, losing everything, becoming hers.

  Collapsing on the bed, he pulled Cadence down beside him, holding her in his arms. He listened to her raspy breathing as he tried to catch his. There were no words, just the ebb and flow of satisfaction sparking through his body. Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed her temple, pressing his lips to her soft skin. He inhaled, drawing in her scent, and sighed. She smelled so damn good.

  Like lilacs and springtime.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured sleepily. Scooting closer to him, Cadence draped her arm over his bare chest, her palm resting over his heart.

  A sense of peace descended on him and he reveled in it.

  Good Lord, when had he ever felt this good?

  Never. It had never been like this for him. If it had, he couldn’t remember it.

  His good mood only lasted for a moment before reality crashed down on him. The smile on his face slipped before falling off completely.

  What in the hell was happening to him?

  Kissing and cuddling. This was not him. He had never acted like this with a lover. Not even Jenika. Holy shit. Maybe Kirill was right. Maybe he was starting to care about her, even fall for her.

  His gut clenched painfully and for the first time in many years, he felt fear. Honest-to-God fear. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  No! Absolutely not. He couldn’t love her. No . . .

  Revolting against the idea, he untangled himself from her arms and moved away, careful not to wake her. He pulled back the sheet, intending to leave but stopped, frozen to the spot. His eyes widened in horror. Glancing at Cadence, he followed the firm lines and curves of her body before dropping his attention back to the bed.

  There was blood on the sheet. Crimson on white.

  Lifting his eyes from the red spots, he studied her from the slim lines of her face to the gentle rise of her hips and down to her dainty painted toenails. She had no wounds, nothing that would bleed. Quickly, he checked himself, a deep-rooted fear gnawing at him. He wasn’t bleeding either. That could only mean . . .

  No fucking way!

  She was almost twenty years old. There was no way she could be a virgin. It just wasn’t possible.

  The pit of his stomach swirled madly. He wanted to wake her, ask her the question looming large in his mind but there was no need. The evidence on the sheet told him everything he needed to know. Dark-red smears against the white material.

  Holy shit, what had he done?

  ~ ~ ~

  The sharp cry of seagulls pierced her dreams, poking small holes into her unconscious brain. Not ready to open her eyes yet, Cadence raised her arms over her head and stretched, wincing at the ache in her muscles. In fact, her whole body hurt. Every muscle, every joint. But it was a satisfying and delicious kind of hurt and it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Fluttering her eyes against the pale sunlight streaming in from the window, she pulled herself into a sitting position. The blanket fell to her waist and she glanced down, surprised to see she was naked. One hundred percent nude.

  What happened?

  Then she remembered. The man in her room. The fingernail file. The blood. It had all been so horrible. But after that, things were a little fuzzy until . . .

  She gasped as the memory hit her. Nikolas had been here. In this bed. With her. And he had . . . And she had . . .

  Oh God.

  Throwing back the blanket, she saw the blood on the sheet and felt her heart sink. Oh no, now she’d gone and done it. And she’d done it with the one person who didn’t give a damn about her.

  Rising from the bed, her shaky knees threatened to dump her onto the floor and she put on hand on the mini fridge for support.

  I can’t believe I did this.

  But the smears on the sheet were concrete proof that she had, in fact, done it. There were so many emotions running through her, she couldn’t identify them all. Nor did she try. Closing her eyes, she shut out the sight of her blood on the bed and took a deep breath. When she felt steady enough to move, she turned, not looking at the bed, and walked to the bathroom.

  She could smell soap and shampoo. Nikolas must have showered while she was still asleep. Like a bolt of lightning, she thought of his naked body, lean and hard, poised over hers. The feel of him moving against her, inside her . . .

  Taking an uneven breath, she turned to look at herself in the mirror to see if she appeared as different as she felt. Her dark hair was a wild, rumpled mess and her face was flushed. But she was the same girl she had been hours ago. Except her eyes. They looked different somehow. Wiser maybe. Like a veil had been ripped away.

  That’s not the only thing that got ripped away, a new, more educated voice whispered.

  “Oh,” she moaned, remembering in sudden clarity of everything he’d done to her. Everything she’d allowed him to do. Begged him to do.

  She dropped her gaze to the rest of her body and wished she hadn’t. Bite marks covered her breasts and her hips were decorated with small bruises. She remembered h
is hands gripping her tightly as he pulled her closer to his mouth . . .

  Oh my God . . .

  Shame flooded through her. She was a vile and disgusting person. Not because she had murdered a man, which was bad enough, but because of what had happened in that bed. Between her and Nikolas.

  Shutting her eyes again, she put her hands on the counter and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. Dear Lord, what had she done?

  She’d had sex. Hot, bone-melting, animalistic sex. Her body trembled with the memory of Nikolas’s mouth on her. Everywhere. Except her mouth. With the exception of the kiss in St. Petersburg, he’d never put his lips on hers again. Not once during their . . . time together.

  Cursing herself, she opened her eyes. She was being stupid. Kissing was a sign of affection. Of something deep and meaningful. And what happened last night had been far from that. It had been rough and raw and had nothing to do with love or affection. She felt sick. Like she might vomit.

  She wouldn’t think about it. She just wanted to forget it. To forget everything. Suddenly, she was desperate to be rid of every trace of him.

  Turning on the shower, she didn’t bother with the cold water and stepped under the hot spray. The loofah she’d used earlier still hung on the hook. Yanking it from the wall, she smothered it in soap and began to scrub herself harshly, wanting every reminder of Nikolas’ touch gone. Over and over, she raked the scratchy material across her body. By the time she was done, her skin was as red as a fire engine. It felt like she’d nearly torn off the top layer in the shower but at least she couldn’t smell him on her anymore.